


drabbles

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [276]
Category: Charmed
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Dysfunctional Family, Evil Wins, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Kid Fic, Next Generation, Non-Graphic Violence, POV First Person, POV Third Person Omniscient, Recovered Memories, Reincarnation, Time Travel, Unchanged Future, changed future, family before everything, raging against the heavens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4928662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The majority of my Charmed fics will be moved here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you die awake

**Author's Note:**

> Title: you die awake  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton  
> Warnings: changed future; references to the unchanged one  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 200  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any. any. s(he) remembers the other timeline.

He doesn't just suddenly remember one day, and he hasn't always remembered. But slowly, he realizes that his thought processes are different, and he has memories of things that never happened. 

Except they did, didn't they? 

On his fourteenth birthday, he _knows_ that Mom died. But she doesn't. He has a very nice party with all the cousins and kids from school, and Wyatt is there smiling and laughing instead of orbing in too late because he got held up with friends. 

Everything is different, except nothing is. 

He judges everyone with knowledge he shouldn't have, tempered by experiences he never experienced. He'll realize later just how subtle it was - no one noticed, not even Wyatt. 

It's why he'll succeed where his brother failed before; he has seen what went wrong, and knows how to fix it. 

He doesn't just suddenly remember, and doesn't just suddenly change. That was Wyatt's greatest mistake, he thinks, listening to his brother complain about one of his classes. It's why the first Chris rejected him so completely. 

When Chris offers Wyatt the chance, though, he knows his brother will take it, and they'll be able to save the world from its own implacable stupidity.


	2. Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in 2006.
> 
> Warnings for evil winning.

_Don’t we deserve a happy ending? After everything?_

…

He expected too much and he knows it, now. Too late, of course.

It’s not fair, brutally so, and there’s nothing to be done. He can bitch and moan to stars forever and it won’t to change a thing, can’t—meant to be and all that shit.

‘Meant to be,’ the Elders would say, and fighting won’t do any good, because fate and destiny can’t be defeated.

He’s where he was always going, even with all his expectations of something better, something more. Memories of a life he never lived kept him up at night and he could feel the dagger in his gut at random times. But even with the knowledge of another world in his head, he couldn’t see a way out of this, an escape. 

Meant to be, he supposes, and isn’t that just fucking right?

…

After all the world had put them through, they deserved more. They’d earned it, paid for it with blood and sweat and tears. Paid for it with their lives, more than once, though they’d always found away back from death—except those four times.

They each earned a happy ending. But their life wasn’t a Disney movie, a kid’s version of the tale—they lived a Grimm story, and they got a Grimm ending.

The princess doesn’t live happily ever after with her true love. Not originally. And evil doesn’t care how good, how pure you are—it kills you all the same.

…

Prue, of course, died first. Then Phoebe, then Paige, and last was Piper. Three of them were childless, but Piper had two, both sons. They were young when the Charmed Ones died, very young. They could barely remember the strongest witches in the world. And the slight memories were not enough. Nowhere near enough.

Leo did his best, and Victor, too—but it didn’t do any good.

Only their mother could have controlled them, but she was long dead and gone.

…

And this was always their destination, from Wyatt’s first breath.

No sons for the Warrens. No boys to fuck up the bloodline and fall from the path of the light.

Clearly, fate knew what it was doing all those years of only daughters born. Too bad—for everyone—that it allowed Wyatt into the world.

…

Maybe Grams had the right of it when she told the Charmed Ones that men should not have magic, that men were flawed and flighty, that men fell too easily.

Or perhaps, the old proverb merely proved true: Absolute power corrupts absolutely. 

Either way, clearly something was wrong. Horribly, terribly, no way out _wrong_.

…

And he can beg the stars for the old days he barely remembers but it won’t do a bit of good. Nothing will change.

He has all the power in the world, and his brother still more, but it doesn’t matter because some things are fucking _meant to be_ and this, for some unfathomable reason, is one of them.

It doesn’t make sense, any of it. So little ever makes sense. And Wyatt’s lost his mind, decided the world should burn for his pain, and he can’t do a thing about it.

To his own shame, he knows he wouldn’t if he could.

…

Because this is always where he was going. The invisible knife is in his gut, sharp and cold and unforgiving. He can see a childhood he never had; the little boy he never was is laughing at him.

Boys should not be born to the Warren line but they were. _They were_. And everything is paying the price.

…

Wyatt watches the world from his high-rise, beyond the populace. They are not living beings in his eyes, only toys to be played with at his leisure. 

And in turn, Chris watches him.

…

The Charmed Ones deserved more. Wyatt has chosen to take it.

And there will be no happy ending, can’t be. Not with the world like it is, and it won’t become another way any time soon.

Chris always expected too much. He knows that now.

Watching Wyatt watch the world, he also knows that if he had to choose between his brother and everything else—which is the choice offered him—he would let the world burn.

He would watch the world and all her children burn to ash before he stood against Wyatt.

Chris steps up to the window beside his brother and wonders if there was ever another way.


	3. Liar's Creed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Liar's Creed  
> Fandom: "Charmed"  
> Disclaimer: Not my characters. My little poem thing. Just for fun.  
> Warnings: takes place during “Oh My Goddess” pt 1; spoilers for the Chris plotline; AU for what we later learned about the next generation  
> Pairings: maybe some implied Wyatt/Chris? I’m honestly not sure.  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Point of view: first  
> Wordcount: 766  
> Note: written in 2006

_When tomorrow comes, the truth will set us free._  
_Except…_  
_The Truth lies dying._

.

Liar. All you are, all you’ve become – maybe even all you’ve ever been, Wy - is a liar.

When you told me you didn’t know what killed Mom or the aunts or Mel or Paul, you were lying. When you told me you didn’t know what was mobilizing the Underworld, you were lying. When you said Dad would be home soon, he just needed to finish with the Elders, you were lying.

When you told me you loved me, were you lying then, too?

.

It did hurt, you know. When you walked away. I felt like… like… you’d grabbed my heart and yanked it from my chest, then cut it into little pieces and spit on it. 

You were the one who said we should stick together, that we _needed_ to stick together. That together we were safe.

And then - you walked away. For your empire and your regime and your ‘perfect world’. Weren’t _you_ the one who told me perfection doesn’t exist?

.

But you know what’s worse? You know what hurt most of all? That when I walked away from you, that final time, to go to the past, to here, where _none of it’s happened yet —_

You didn’t come for me. You let me muck about in history — did you have such little faith in my abilities, in my temper, in my _will_ that you thought I’d fail? That I’d give up and return?

 _You left first_ , Wyatt. You left and didn’t look back for years. And then — then — you didn’t ask me to join you. You demanded.

Have you ever wondered why I said yes?

.

Didn’t think so. You just always assume that I’ll pick you. You always have. 

The fact that I always did doesn’t really matter, does it? Because there’s a first time for everything. There’s a first time for everything, you _bastard_ , and I couldn’t escape the knowledge of what you’d become.

When you found me and offered your hand, I took it. I stood by your side and I killed with you, _for_ you, all the time working to save _you_ , Wyatt.

And you’re a liar.

.

But I think I’m a liar, too. 

.

You think I’ll just forgive you? You think I’ll come back, stay by your side, _happily_? 

You think I’ll forget? 

I can never forget.

I can never return.

But I think…. I think….

 _Damn_ you, Wyatt, I _can_ forgive you.

.

You damned _liar. Damned_ liar. Liar. 

How — why — _when_ did it all go wrong? We were raised as _champions of the light_ , as the culmination of _good_ , as the fucking _saviors_ , you bastard. We were what witches have strived towards for millennia…

And you threw it all away. _You threw it all away_. You threw _me_ away, and then you expected me to join you with a smile and kiss?

. 

But there’s something you’ve never understood about me, Wyatt. Something you’ve never really bothered to see. 

I don’t have your raw power. I don’t have your rage. I don’t have your bitterness.

I don’t have the coldness you must to do what you’ve done.

What I have, Wyatt, what I have that I think you never will —

.

 _Love_ , brother. There are people, places, memories that I love. Not just you. You were never my entire world, even if I did choose you over everything. 

But I am all you ever had. All you ever _let_ yourself have.

And that’s why — why — you walked away for yourself. You left to take control, to ascend, to attain whatever you’d convince yourself you needed for completion.

You left for yourself.

Love is not selfish.

I left for you.

.

I left for _you_. To save you. 

.

And I don’t think we’ll get a happy ending. Not this me and this you, Wyatt. But the little us’s, the me not yet born and the innocent you I can hear crying while Phoebe stares at statue-Paige — 

_They’ll_ get our ending. They’ll live happy, long lives. They _all_ will.

You don’t have faith in me. You don’t think I can do it.

.

I know I won’t fail. I can’t. 

.

I can’t forget. 

I can’t return.

I can forgive.

.

I cannot fail. 

.

You’re a liar, Wyatt. I’ve become one, too. I had to, for survival. 

But this, brother — hear me through time, through our blood and our bond and our love and our magic —

 _I will save you_. I refuse to fail.

.

 _And Lie screams_.


	4. Horsemen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in 2007. Lots of character death, evil wins. 
> 
> This is also posted at my LJ & ff.net, so someone who has read it at those places might notice I've made a couple of changes. Or not. *shrugs*

In the end, they weren’t charmed at all. They were just women, and women die the same as everyone else. Women have bones that shatter and women bleed out. Women lie on the ground, beaten and broken, and no angel can get there in time.

In the end, they were just a trio of sisters who died heartbeats apart, leaving the next generation alone.

And from there…

Why, have you not read the history books?

Their husbands were killed later that week, and the father of two of the sisters. The children—two for the eldest sister and one each for the others—had no guidance, no one to rein them in and offer support. The oldest—still young himself—did his best, but he was only sixteen for all his power. And the youngest, a sweet girl of seven, cried herself to sleep every night. Soon, she faded away and the remaining three had even more reason to mourn.

The middle one pulled ever more into himself, determined that if he cared for no one, he wouldn’t hurt so much. He rarely spoke and never smiled; his laughter, once bright and joyful, no longer rang out.

And the now-youngest, only ten years old, followed her cousin into the afterlife a mere twelve months later.

So now the brothers were alone, eighteen and sixteen, the most powerful beings in existence, with only each other. Angry and hurt, with a vendetta against the world, they turned from solemn mourning to righteous fury and let all know their feelings.

Soon, the Earth and her citizens cowered before them, but they never paused. They rained down fire and boiled the seas, turning countries to craters and mountains to dust. Every species suffered beneath them; nothing was spared. They had no mercy.

By the time the elder turned twenty, most of the planet had become a wasteland. There were millions of skeletal cities, and no escape from the desolation. Mortal, demon, witch—all worked together, searching for salvation from what the Charmed Ones spawned.

They ruled, the brothers, and still found no relief. No respite from their pain and despair. So they became ever more cruel.

The day the younger turned twenty-one, the anniversary of the death of the Charmed Ones, an army of demons and mortals and witches stormed their stronghold.

And the elder, lost in madness, laughed before turning them to ash.

Like so much of history, there is no happy ending.

Eventually, the brothers died, as all tyrants do. The elder burned himself out with his power one day, twenty years into his reign. He felt no pain, just a soft burn and then nothing.

And the younger, left alone with only memories and regrets decades too late, swiftly followed.

And the world moved on, as it always does. It took a long time, but the scars grew over and finally children laughed again. Cities were rebuilt and magic returned, used for good instead of inflicting pain.

Mortals and witches lived side-by-side as they always had, except now in full knowledge. Demons returned to the underworld; they, too, had to rebuild.

But everyone looked over their shoulders because no one ever truly dies. Souls are recycled and people reborn—what if those two came to be again?

The Charmed Ones and their offspring were put into the history books and lessons were taught about the misuse of power. The brothers’ names were rarely thought and even more rarely spoken.

And one day, a thousand years after the elder burned out, a baby boy was born. He was named Matthias and he had brilliant blue eyes. His mother was a witch of medium power and his father a mortal—and sometimes, as he grew, he dreamed of a life where he ruled. Not even two years later, Matthias was given a little brother whose eyes were bright green, named Kristof. Kristof often dreamed of days lived in pain. 

They never spoke of their dreams, not to anyone. 

Matthias honed his teleportation and astral projection; Kristof mastered telekinesis and telepathy. They grew ever more skilled, ever stronger—and the dreams felt less like fantasy and more like memory every night. 

Witches still spoke of the Charmed Ones. Demons still cursed the names of the brothers who nearly drove them to extinction. And, of course, as they discovered more of their powers, Matthias and Kristof wondered… 

But they never voiced their deepest fears.

And maybe, Matthias thought the day his parents died, some things can’t be changed. He met Kristof’s eyes—so old, so weary—and managed a broken smile.

His nod meant _I remember you_ and then he let his anger fly.

Before, in another life, the world cowered at his feet. And now, in the face of his wrath, the world trembles.

And Kristof stands beside him. He belongs nowhere else.


	5. all I ever wanted (and more)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all I ever wanted (and more)  
> Disclaimer: the kids are mine  
> Warnings: changed future!fic  
> Pairings: Chris/Bianca  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 160  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Charmed, Chris, kids of his own make him appreciate his mother's patience.

When Pippa and Matty's game of orb-and-seek ends up on the Golden Gate Bridge, Chris hangs onto his temper with clenched fingers and tersely orders them to their rooms. They're too young to understand that he's more terrified than angry, and he finally gets _exactly_ why Mom used to have furtive talks with the aunts about binding all of the next generation's powers.

"Breathe, babe," Bianca says, leaning into him. "You found them. They're not hurt. They won't do it again for at least a day."

"A day," Chris laughs, almost hysterically. "Shit."

Bianca smiles, pressing a quick kiss to his nose. "C'mon, Chris. Your turn to feed the munchkin. I'll go explain to the terrible two why Daddy freaked out all over them."

Chris nods, heading to the kitchen, where Lynn is banging her spoon on her highchair. She grins up at Chris and shimmers the spoon away.

"Mom, I owe you a _massive_ apology," he mutters, orbing the spoon back.


	6. Destined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was written sometime in 2008, I think. *hands* 
> 
> Warnings for lots of character death, evil totally winning, and the narrator realizing it's all wrong but not doing a thing to change it.

This is always where we were going, and there was never any escape.

For centuries our family fought evil, and only a rare few ever turned. The odd spell here and there turned some for a while, but they always found a way out.

And then the first boy born to the bloodline in a thousand years—an anomaly. Something that would not be replicated.

Wyatt Halliwell, the most powerful being of all time, of all the worlds. Son of a Whitelighter and a Charmed One. Twice Blessed Heir of Magic. Culmination of all that was good and right in the world. Anomaly.

The Elders and the magical community were sure there wouldn’t be another boy born to a Warren daughter. There could not be. Wyatt was special; he’d been prophesized for millennia, if one knew where to look.

But then Christopher came to be, strange and secretive Chris, who loved only his brother and mother and me. He was not Twice Blessed, though Leo had become an Elder. He was completely unexpected, an unknown. Not even two years after Wyatt and _another_ boy for the Halliwells? 

Balanced on a knife, the world began to tremble because everything was wrong.

They were the only sons, my brothers. Aunt Paige had two daughters and Aunt Phoebe three. Paige married a mortal and Phoebe the ex-Source, once he’d resurrected again. Neither lived long: Paige died when Megan was three and Phoebe when Patty turned four.

So Momma raised us all, the next generation of good. Wyatt was the oldest and I the youngest. Wyatt, Chris, Prudence, Penelope, Megan, Patricia, Talia, and I—Melinda. 

Dad helped when he could, but he had the Elders to deal with. I understood but Wyatt felt abandoned. Prue, Penny, and Patty began rebelling the earliest, unable to cope with their dual natures. Prue lashed out at the demons, going on ever more dangerous missions. Mom did the best she could and Wyatt tried to rein Prue in—but she died at fifteen and Penny soon followed. Patty lasted until she was twenty, but cousins could never equal sisters and she succumbed to grief.

Megan died when a truck hit her car at sixteen. She never saw it coming and had no chance to orb. Talia last the longest, till just after Wyatt claimed the world. She could not deal with such a coup and fought against us.

I know that my brothers are wrong, that nothing is as it should be. I know that my soul is probably damned and my mother winces with shame in the afterlife. I also know this is always where we were going, and we never could have avoided it. 

If Momma still lived, Chris would never have followed Wyatt. If Momma still lived, Wyatt would never have fallen. 

Momma had the two strongest witches of all time, sons of a Whitelighter and an Elder. And I, daughter of a mortal, testament of a week-long retirement before Dad went back to the clouds. Momma did the best she could, and no one could have done better.

Sometimes, I dream of those days before this world. When I and my cousins played together, when my brothers watched over us. Now we three are all that is left, powerful remnants of a family gone. And our names are cursed instead of revered.

Wyatt rules, King of the Darkness, Emperor of the World, Twice Blessed Heir of Magic. And Chris stands beside him, the only of us not foretold. The citizens whisper that Wyatt is the most powerful being, but we three know the truth.

If Chris did not love us, he could destroy us and take it all.

Eventually, the Darkness is stronger than the Light. And our family always walked the edge. We have no explanation and we utter no excuses. This is easier than the constant fight.

Wyatt was prophesized. And I am meant to be. But Chris…

He was not mentioned anywhere, even though all our cousins were. Wyatt tells him it means nothing, that something was overlooked. But Chris and I know.

I see no way out of this perversion. Wyatt cannot see what he has become. And Chris can only see what hurt, before; he’s lost sight of the pleasure, of the fun we had bathed in Light. I wish I could help them. I wish I could save them.

I wish for my childhood back.

Prue and Penny and Megan and Patty and Talia—I am glad you are beyond this pain. Dad, forgive me for my weakness. Aunt Page and Uncle Henry, Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Cole—I miss you. Momma…

Momma…

Forgive me for letting them fall. Forgive me for falling with them. Forgive me for not seeing a way out of this.

Momma, forgive me for giving up. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.


End file.
